The recovery from such languor being sleep – sleep for days in a dark room with tear-streaked cheeks and soppy pillows. A flattened, dreamless, endless pit of sleep and silence seamlessly blending dusks and dawns. It is sleep or possibly a stiff drink at inappropriate intervals until the weight is lightened or lifted. Often, still, there is not as much energy as there once was, and shall never be again.

But your words offer understanding and a knowledge of your place and time in your world to those beyond. Silence would be pure isolation and fragile digits have not allowed that yet. Your words and thoughts are more often sanguine even in complaint of inadequate achievement. Your magazine writing is great and so should anyine with the pleasure of the vicinity of your cortex.